


Monument

by bowtieowl



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Mostly Fluff, capri week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 06:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7834024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bowtieowl/pseuds/bowtieowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every year when the summer gets unbearable, scholars take their students to the Kingsmeet to teach them about the great Kings and Queens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monument

**Author's Note:**

> My addition to the Captive Prince Week. Prompt: Prospects or Memories. I decided to go with both.

_"Why does it have to be made of marble?"_

_"Because, my love, that's how it's always been."_

_A lazy touch. Laurent's fingertips like spring air on his shoulder. "But stone doesn't suit you."_

_"What would suit me?"_

_"Gold."_

_Damen can't help the smile when he takes Laurent's hand and kisses his knuckles. "Maybe we'll add some gold."_

 

\---

 

Being a sentry at Kingsmeet was an honor every one of the young men took seriously. Of course they laughed and joked, they had their moments of comradery, their pranks and competitions, but never while they stood in the ancient halls of the Kingsmeet. You'd never find one of them laughing there.

 

Except…

 

Except when they welcomed the children there. Each year when the heat of the summer sun made it unbearable to teach anything to a bunch of six and seven year olds who wanted nothing more than to throw themselves into the cool waves of the ocean, the scholars led them to the Kingsmeet to maybe get one more important lesson into their students' head before they travelled North with them into the garden palace that was cool enough to study during the hottest weeks, but came with other challenges. The children often were homesick or, in other cases, preoccupied with their curiosity about the new place. Kingsmeet always felt like the end of a very exhausting period of the year and the beginning of an entirely new, even more exhausting one. The only one who enjoyed it were the sentries.

 

When the children's voices filled the halls and their questions uncovered every absurdity the history of the country had to offer, the Kingsmeet felt less untouchable. More alive. Like a real place rather than a monument.

 

One of the sentries listened intently to the scholar who taught the children about the battle of Marlas when suddenly a little girl squealed. "I know this story!"

 

Her eyes weren't on Theomedes, but on the next statue and she was jumping in her excitement, her finger pointing at the marble figure in front of her. The scholar rolled his eyes, but when the young sentry looked around, he found everyone from the Kingsmeet frozen to their spot, listening and smiling.

 

"We're not there yet, Eleonora," the scholar said. "But if you want it so badly, will you tell us the story?"

 

"This is Damianos and his husband King Laurent of Vere. They united the kingdom." The little girl clutched her chest, which might have been dramatic for a grown up woman, but was simply adorable for a little girl with dark curls and bright blue eyes. "They were the greatest King-husbands of all time."

 

"And do you know why they are kneeling?" her teacher asked. It was obvious he was slowly growing soft on her too. Enthusiasm does that to a person.

 

"Because they went down in history as the Slave Kings. They served each other as well as their countries and by doing so they banned slavery and united the kingdom." The little girl sighed happily.

 

"And aside from being a twin figure, what's so special about this statue?" The scholar waited a second, but this time the girl didn't have the answer.

 

"Their cuffs." The young sentry promptly closed his mouth and his eyes widened. He didn't mean to speak. But now every pair of eyes in the hallway was on him, so he cleared his throat. "They're the only statues in the Kingsmeet that aren't entirely made of marble. They're wearing gold cuffs. It's said that King Damianos had them made because King Laurent asked him to and that their names are engraved on their inside. But nobody knows if that's true because of course nobody would dare to get the cuffs off."

 

The scholar looked pleased and the little girl newly in love. Her eyes lingered for a moment before the scholar cleared his throat and urged her to pay more attention to King Theomedes and the Battle of Marlas. The girl, though… She looked back over her shoulder at the sentry, nodded and smiled.  He smiled back. He liked it when there were children at Kingsmeet.

 

___

 

_"Gold cuffs?"_

_Laurent leans against him playing with the hair in his neck. Damen kisses his temple. "Too much?"_

_"No, I like it," Laurent says. "It adds a special something."_

_"I had our names engraved on the inside."_

_Laurent laughs and then pushes himself off his husband. "Amazing!"_

_Damen frowns. "Where are you going?"_

_"I'm telling the servants," Laurent says, raising his voice so Damen will hear him over his shoulder. "Watch the rumor spread and go down in history. Generations after generations will look at us and wonder!"_

_Damen watches after his husband and shakes his head. He glances at the cuffs that they put on the sculpture and grins. He hasn't thought about the mystery of it, but now that he does, he loves it. And he loves Laurent._

_"Generations after generations," he whispers and then leaves the sculpture to go after Laurent._

_Maybe happiness means finding more pleasure in the present than in past and future combined. And what's marble and gold compared to warm skin and soft kisses? Damen speeds up. Maybe Laurent can wait a little with the rumor spreading. He catches his husband before he reaches the stairs and Laurent laughs when Damen presses him against the cool stone walls of the palace. Damen's name falls from Laurent's mouth and he knows why he had those cuffs engraved. A monument, not for them, but for this feeling and this feeling alone._


End file.
